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Under Two Flags

Chapter 4. Love a La Mode

Word Count: 5489    |    Released on: 17/11/2017

y pleasant a

s Vandykes and its Vernets, and yet - there was terribly little money at Royallieu with it all. Its present luxury was purchased at the cost of the future, and the parasite of extravagance was constantly sapping, unseen, the gallant old Norman-planted oak of the family-tree. But then, who thought of that? Nobody. It was the way of the House never to take count of the morrow. True, any one of them would have died a hundred deaths rather than have had one acre of the beautiful green diadem of woods felled by the ax of the timber contractor, or passed to the hands of a stranger; but no one among them ever thought that this was the inevitable end to which they surely drifted with blind and unthinking improvidence. The old Viscount, haughtiest of haughty nobles, would never abate one jot of his accustomed magnificence; and his sons had but imbibed the teaching of all that surrounded them; they did but do in manhood what they had been unconsciously molded to do in boyhood, when they were set to Eton at ten with gold dressing-boxes t

er left his own apartments; and no one, save his favorite "little Berk," ever went to him without his desire. He was too sensitive a man to thrust his age and ailing health in among the young leaders of fashion, the wild men of pleasure, the good wits and the good shots of his son's set

the Guardsman. For "Beauty" the Viscount had no love; indeed, well-nigh

uctant; of his wife's fidelity he could not entertain a doubt; though, that he had never won her heart, he could not choose but know. He knew more, too; for she had told it him with a noble candor before he wedded her; knew that the man she did love was a penniless cousin, a cavalry officer, who had made a famous name among the wild mountain tribes of Northern India. This cousin, Alan Bertie - a fearless and chivalrous soldier, fitter for the days of knighthood than for these - had seen Lady Royallieu at Nice, some three years after her marriage

d abashed. Her second and favorite child bore her family name - her late lover's name; and, in resembling her race, resembled the dead soldier. It was sufficient to make him hate Bertie with a cruel and savage detestation, which he strove indeed to temper, for he was by nature a just man, and, i

e jealous of the favor shown to his boyish brother could never for a moment have come into his imagination. Lady Royallieu with her last words had left the little fellow, a child of three years o

p the terrace; Bertie was too like the cavalry soldier whose form he had last seen standing against the rose light

rarely saw, still less rarely consulted him, and cared not a straw for his censure or opinion; but he was too thoroughbred by nature to be able to foll

"I sent for your brother. The fools can't

so near alike; it's oft

er named you," answered his father

his cigar. "We're not even asked whether we like to come into the world; we ca

ped him; he knew that he had been discourteous - a far w

pausing in his walk with his back bowed,

t - the

"The finest horse in the world may have his back broke by bad riding, and a screw

dden closer spins, though

llieu smi

e, where, in the days of his youth, he had led the first flight so often; George Rex, and Waterfor

fair,

d not help darting savage thrusts at this man who looked at him with eyes so cruelly like Alan Bertie's. "You play 5 poun

trick. We always bet on the game," said Cecil, with gentle weariness; the sw

you live as if you were a Roth

orry you very much when all you have to think about is an artistic arrangement of tatters!" m

in the Guards - not even Lord Rockingham - who lives at the rate of imprudence you do; that there is not a man who drives such costly horses, keeps such costly mistresses, games to such desperation, fools gold away with such idiocy as you do. You conduct yourself as if you were a mil

corching malignity; lashing and upbraiding the man wh

e was moved, no sign of impatience or anger. He lifted his cap again, not in irony, bu

d style," he said, with his accustomed gentle

fashioned Elizabethan terrace, little Berk passed him: he motione

her meet the lad - meet him with a smile that changed the whole character of his face, and pleasant, kindly words of af

ated, yet could be willed to which son the Viscount chose, would go to his brother by this passionate partiality; but there was not a tinge of jealousy in

slight touch of pain, despite his idle philosophies and devil-may-care indifference. "Well - I am

himself a bad fellow out of them, sauntered away to join the Seraph and the rest of his guests; his fathe

ght me up as if I had a million coming to me, and turned me out among the cracks to take my running with the best of them - and th

sovereign for more serious liabilities, went, for it was quite early morning, to act the M. F. H. in his fathers' stead at the meet on the great lawns before the house, for the Royallieu "lady-pack" were very f

pulled down scarce forty minutes from the find. The pack then drew Hungerton foxhole blank, drew Carver's spinnies without a whimper; and lastly, drawing the old familiar Billesden Coplow, had a short, quick burst with a brace of cubs, and returning, settled themselves to a fine dog fox that was raced an hour-and-half, hunted slowly for fifty minutes, raced again another hour-and-quarter, sending all th

and care little whether the finale be "killed" or "broke away," and those of the old fashion, who prefer "long day, you know, steady as old time; the beauties stuck like wax through fourteen parishes, as I live; six hours, if it were a minute;

ulties that hung above him while he was dashing down the Gorse happy as a king, with the wild hail driving in his face, and a break of stormy sunshine just welcoming the gallant few who were landed at the death, as twilight fell? Was it likely that he could unlearn all the lessons

-downs, or wearing them perpetually in Californian rags and tatters - it were impossible very well to escape from them then; but it is very hard to remember them when every touch and shape of life is pleasan

y. Up in his garret a poor wretch knows very well what he is, and realizes in stern fact the extremities of the last sou, the last shirt, and the last hope; but in these devil-may-care pleasures - in this pleasant, reckless, velvet-soft rush down-hill - in this club-p

r physically, or even metaphorically, reminded that he was not a

sman"? If he had ever been near a comprehension of it, which he never was, he must have ceased to realize it when - pressed to dine with Lord Guenevere, near whose house the last fox had been killed, while a groom dashed over to Royallieu for his change of clothes - he caught a glimpse, as they passed through the hall, of the ladies taking their preprandial cups of tea in the library, an enchanting group of lace and silks, of delicate hue and scented hair, of blond cheeks and brunette tre

, who hardly prized the Seraph so much as they did Bertie, to sit in their barouches and opera boxes, ride and drive and yacht with them, conduct a Boccaccio intrigue through the hei

erade dress to perfection. He had fallen in love with her as much as he ever fell in love, which was just sufficient to amuse him, and never enough to disturb him. He let himself be fascinated, not exerti

uties that stood knee-deep in the yellow straw of his farmyard, and the triumphant conquests that he gained over h

passed the time, however, and went far to persuade them that they really were in love, and had a mountain of difficulties and dangers to contend with; it added the "spice to the sauce," and gave them the "relish of being forbidden." Besides, an open scandal would have been very shocking to her brilliant ladyship, and there was nothing on earth, perhaps, of which he would have had a more lively dread than a "scene"; but his pr

ng the polished floor, or bent her proud head over ecarte in a musing grace that made her opponent utterly forget to mark the king or even play his cards at all; as she talked in the low music of her voice of European imbrogli, and consols and coupons, for she was a politician and a speculator, or lapsed into a beautifully tinted

are for the most part as cold, clear, hard, and practical as their adorers believe them the contrary; and a femme incomprise is so charming, when she avows herself comprehended by you, that you would never risk spoiling the confidence by hinting a doubt of its truth. If she and Bertie only played at love; if neither believed much in the other; if each trifled with a pretty gossamer soufflet of passion much as they trifled with the soufflets at dinner; if bot

y, flirted with his liege lady that night; lying back in the softest of lounging-chairs, with his dark, dreamy, handsome eyes looking all the eloquence in the world, and his h

under ou

or not

h he was gen

above the Gorse! Three hares crossed us and a fresh fox; some of the pack broke away after the new scent, but old Bluebell, your pet, held on like death, and most of them k

erred love a la mode; it is so much easier and less exhausting to tell your mistress of a ringing run, or a

"purlers" very reckless in a white-skinned, bright-eyed, illiterate, avaricious little beauty, whose face was her fortune; and who most assuredly would have been adored no single moment longer, had she scarred her fair, tinted cheek with the blackthorn, or started as a heroine with a broken nose like Fielding's cherished Amelia. The Zu–Zu might rage, might sulk, might even swear all sorts of naughty Mabille oaths, most villainously pronounced, at the ascendancy of her haughty, unapproachable patrician rival - she did do all these things -

"Nothing on earth so dangerous; your leader will bolt, or your off-wheeler will turn sulky, or your young one will passage and make the very deuce of a row; they'll never go quiet till the end, however clever your hand is on the ribbons. Now, I'll dr

f the Matrimonial Pack, with those clever hounds Belle and Fashion ever leading in full cry after him, that he dreaded the sight of a ballroom meet; and, shunning the rich preserves of the Salons, ran to earth persistently in the shady Wood of

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Under Two Flags
Under Two Flags
“Avis au Lecteur. This Story was originally written for a military periodical. It has been fortunate enough to receive much commendation from military men, and for them it is now specially issued in its present form. For the general public it may be as well to add that, where translations are appended to the French phrases, those translations usually follow the idiomatic and particular meaning attached to these expressions in the argot of the Army of Algeria, and not the correct or literal one given to such words or sentences in ordinary grammatical parlance. Ouida.”
1 Chapter 1. "Beauty of the Brigades."2 Chapter 2. The Loose Box, and the Tabagie3 Chapter 3. The Soldiers' Blue Ribbon4 Chapter 4. Love a La Mode5 Chapter 5. Under the Keeper's Tree6 Chapter 6. The End of a Ringing Run7 Chapter 7. After a Richmond Dinner8 Chapter 8. A Stag Hunt Au Clair De La Lune9 Chapter 9. The Painted Bit10 Chapter 10. "Petite Reine."11 Chapter 11. For a Woman's Sake12 Chapter 12. The King's Last Service13 Chapter 13. In the Cafe of the Chasseurs14 Chapter 14. "De Profundis" Before "Plunging."15 Chapter 15. "L'amie Du Drapeau."16 Chapter 16. Cigarette En Bacchante17 Chapter 17. Under the Houses of Hair18 Chapter 18. Cigarette En Bienfaitrice19 Chapter 19. The Ivory Squadrons20 Chapter 20. Cigarette En Conseil Et Cachette21 Chapter 21. Cigarette En Condottiera22 Chapter 22. The Mistress of the White King23 Chapter 23. The Little Leopard of France24 Chapter 24. "Milady Aux Beaux Yeux Bleus."25 Chapter 25. "Le Bon Zig."26 Chapter 26. Zaraila27 Chapter 27. The Love of the Amazon28 Chapter 28. The Leathern Zackrist29 Chapter 29. By the Bivouac Fire30 Chapter 30. Seul Au Monde31 Chapter 31. "Je Vous Achete Votre Vie."32 Chapter 32. "Venetia."33 Chapter 33. The Gift of the Cross34 Chapter 34. The Desert Hawk and the Paradise-Bird35 Chapter 35. Ordeal by Fire36 Chapter 36. The Vengeance of the Little One37 Chapter 37. In the Midst of Her Army38 Chapter The Last. At Rest